


In This Moment

by J_E_McCormick



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, apocolypse AU, cute and sweet and sad, there's mentions of bombs and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_E_McCormick/pseuds/J_E_McCormick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this idea:</p><p>"Imagine your OTP slow-dancing to a  love song, with Person A quietly singing the words in  Person B’s ear.</p><p>Imagine this happening during the apocalypse and they both know they’re going to die soon."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a couple of posts and tags on Tumblr:
> 
> http://excessively-english-little-b.tumblr.com/post/84014974319/13thcat-vivisec-theslowestdrawfag  
> http://excessively-english-little-b.tumblr.com/post/84016525145/i-actually-just-imagined-this-with-courfeyrac-and
> 
> so yeah here you go

They’re trapped, in the cramped area of half a room, their way out blocked by the rubble of the rest of the building. They are the only ones there; they don’t know what happened to the rest of their friends. Enjolras and Grantaire and Feuilly had been running with them – somewhere in the panic and the running and the sound of buildings falling and bombs exploding, they must have gotten split up from them. The others, they know nothing of – they haven’t seen them in days. Maybe they were in a different part of town; maybe they were right underneath where the bombs started to drop.

Courfeyrac is crying, pacing around, trying to find a way out. The room doesn’t have any windows. The rubble is too heavy to move. He wants desperately to know if their friends are alright – his friends mean the world to him. Without them, safe and happy, he doesn’t know what he’d do.

Combeferre is sat down against a wall. He hurt one of his ankles when the rubble was falling and they were trying to take shelter – he’s trying to assess the damage. He looks up and watches Courfeyrac’s agitated pacing, listens to the faint sounds still audible outside. He stands, testing his ankle – it aches to put his weight on it, but he can bear it.

“Courfeyrac.” He says softly. Courfeyrac looks over at him, and Combeferre holds out his hand. Courfeyrac looks confused for a moment, but when Combeferre gives an encouraging gesture, he steps over to take it. Combeferre pulls him close, putting his other hand on Courfeyrac’s waist. Courfeyrac sighs softly as he moves his hand to Combeferre’s shoulder, quickly falling into the familiar dance position. Combeferre’s smile is small, but sweet and gentle as he starts to gently sway them from side to side, and he starts to hum, a quiet melody that Courfeyrac recognises quickly. He lets out a little laugh that sounds too close to a sob, and presses even closer.

It doesn’t take them long to shift so that Courfeyrac’s arms are looped around Combeferre’s neck, and Combeferre’s hands both rest on Courfeyrac’s hips, pulling him so that they are flush together, chest to chest as they dance. Courfeyrac rests his forehead at the crook of Combeferre’s neck, closing his eyes and nuzzling against Combeferre’s throat.

“Ohh, my love,” Courfeyrac starts to sing along softly to Combeferre’s humming, “my darling. I’ve hungered for your touch…”

Combeferre smiles, turning his head to press a kiss to Courfeyrac’s cheek. He tightens his embrace a little, and Courfeyrac lets out a tiny, content sigh.

In this small moment, which seems to them to last almost for hours, days, weeks – in this moment, it is quiet, it is calm, it is warm, it is safe. There is not a war going on outside; there are not bombs dropping down on the city; they are not trapped, nor are their friends possibly dead and gone. In this moment, none of that exists. Nothing exists except them, dancing close together, humming and singing along to the soft love song of their first dance together. They are together, in each other’s arms, and that is all that matters to them – the idea of death does not seem so bad as long as they are together.

The sound of bombs dropping again and the shaking of the ground with explosions barely registers to them. They keep dancing, slowly, gently, lovingly, Courfeyrac still singing under his breath.

“Godspeed your love… to… me…” Courfeyrac sings, and leans back to press his lips to Combeferre’s. Combeferre pulls him closer, and every ounce of love they have pours from their lips.

They hold each other in a warm, tight embrace, and kiss even as the world falls down around them.


End file.
